


The In-between

by merinxD



Series: Loveless [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Domestic, M/M, New Boyfriends, all linking chronologically, follow up one shot series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merinxD/pseuds/merinxD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto and Haru have met for the first time after talking online for weeks. They’ve had their first kiss and are going to have coffee. Life isn’t loveless anymore but it might get awkward.</p><p>Previous chaptered series:<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040803/chapters/2077469">"Loveless"</a></p><p>Some are for the <a href="http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com"><b>makoharu festival</b></a> over at tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a casual series of moments between Makoto and Haru set between meeting at the exhibit and the events of the epilogue. Rating is subject to change.
> 
> Edited by aninlinsan on tumblr.
> 
>  

So, this is awkward. 

Remember me, Haru Nanase? I’m the artist that lost all of his drive, failed at gaining more than one follower on my shitty blog, almost destroyed my career by giving up and was a general dick bag to everyone around me. But that’s all fixed now. However, I have something else on my mind that is equally problematic. I think that I’m in love. No. I  _know_ that I’m in love and I don’t know how to deal with it. 

A couple of hours ago I was blissfully unaware that I’m attracted to another man and feel inextricably linked to him, but I do  now and I have to think about what all that means. Obviously the ‘him’ that I’m talking about is Makoto Tachibana. He’s the head of the art department at the Daily News and I’ve been talking to him for weeks online. I didn’t know that he already knew me and has for a long time, but then again I didn’t know that I am in love with him. 

What can I say? When I’m outside of my studio things tend to pass me by. Life has rocketed along without me for long enough and I feel like I’ve just been lurched into a runaway car. I don’t know where it’s headed or if I’m going to get out of it unscathed but the doors are locked and my heart doesn’t want to leave. 

Which is why I’m sitting very quietly in the back of a town car beside my rambling writer. His writing gave me back my spark and it’s ironic because my art gave him his. Our sparks are what tie us together and it’s undoubtedly the reason that I’m sweating like I’ve run a marathon and my fingers are itching. Makoto has only said one or two things since we left the exhibit and I’m not exactly sure of our destination. I trust that he won’t take me to some back street to kill me and if he does I guess that it will be my fault for falling in love with him.

“Everything is closed.” Makoto says just as I’m picturing my surprisingly well thought out murder. I shake it off and nod once in affirmation. Still, I don’t get where he is going with this.

“Unless you want McDonald’s coffee?” He asks and I snort. Now that sounds like murder to me. 

“It’s fine.” I respond and it’s his turn to nod. 

“Okay.” He says before tapping the driver on the shoulder. “‘A’ street please.” I hear and I have a vague idea of where it is. That’s the swanky part of town near the art district. I’ve had my works shown there more than a few times but I don’t think that anything is open in that area. 

“I have a coffee machine.” Makoto explains and I wonder if I asked him a question. No, I didn’t speak. It’s just like when we talk online or on the phone. How is he able to predict me like that?

It must be a writer thing.

‘Or a Makoto thing’. My brain throws at me before I have time to process it. 

I frown and the man beside me bristles causing me to glance to the side. Suddenly Makoto looks incredibly worried and I think that he’s going to apologise again. 

“I’m sorry, was that too forward?” He almost stammers and my eyes narrow. His brows are drooping inwards and this isn’t a picture I’d like to put on canvas. 

“You already said you love me and kissed me…” I trail off. The ‘why would ‘this’ be too forward?’ is omitted but I’m certain that he understands. 

Makoto’s shoulders relax and his green eyes become somewhat sheepish but no less green. I’ve only seen these eyes in person tonight and on his tumblr profile but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s been a million times. 

They are so mesmerising that I want to paint them. 

“Haru.” Makoto sighs out after a moment of me staring at him unintentionally. His tone sounds breathy like just before our first kiss and I wonder what my expression told him. If he were to kiss me here then the driver would see but I’m not sure that I care. I’ve never cared what people think about me before and Makoto’s lips are open in a way that is particularly artistic. 

Maybe I’m being biased because he looks very paintable right now. The messy brown hair atop his head is an interesting shade despite being shrouded by the night. This area of town is covered with bright lights and it places a shadow behind Makoto that makes his skin look darker than when I first saw him. 

But those lips…

“Yeah?” I reply, sounding blunt but I can feel the perusal in my own gaze. When I get home I’m going to have to paint him. I don’t need a rush of spark or flame to do it. This isn’t like when I painted all those mediocre pieces like Loveless - which I’m quite fond of now - or when his written words pull brilliance from me. No, Makoto causes a different kind of inspiration and it’s not because of anything that he wrote. It’s just him. His vibrant smile and trusting air; his deep green eyes. 

“Your eyes.” Makoto murmurs and for a moment I’m confused. I realise that he’s talking about me and not what is inside my own head. His hand slides to cover mine in the dark and my fingers part to let his move between. I can feel the spark in the atmosphere; the change in the air. I’ve never braided hands with someone before or kissed them; I’ve never wanted to but I want to now. 

“They’re so blue.” Makoto admits and his own green widen considerably. I’m about to snap because I’m sure that he’s going to apologise again just like when we met but I’m caught off guard as he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.

I don’t like surprises but this one is okay. His lips are firm but not too much and they part so that we can move together. I feel a brief wetness of tongue that I’ve only read about but it’s gone in an instant.

“I’m sorry!” Makoto blurts out as soon as he pulls back and my glare is right back in place.

For fuck’s sake.

“It’s fine, Makoto.” I bite out and if I were anyone else I’m sure that there would be some humour in this situation. I’m not, though, and I manage to keep my hard expression genuinely in place until the car rolls to a stop. Makoto manages to ignore it and seem cheerful while never letting go of my hand. It isn’t until his fingers tug on mine and he smiles vibrantly that reality sets in.

“We’re here.” He says, pulling away awkwardly. Any spark that lingered between us is replaced with gigantic clomping awkwardness and I move to my failsafe emotion: annoyance.

It doesn’t last long as a swarm of uninvited fish begins to swim around in my stomach. 

I’m not sure what this feeling is but I don’t like it at all.

“Are you coming?” Makoto asks as he opens the door for me. 

I can only nod as I stare up at the tall apartment building that is made of reflective glass and expense. I suppress an involuntary gulp and allow him to help me out of the car. 

I’m not a princess by any means but I’m sure as hell out of my element. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting company.” Makoto says as he walks swiftly around the tiled apartment turning on light after light. He picks up a few items here and there and places them on a desk. A cat meows its greeting and I’m feeling out of place. 

If Makoto thinks that his home is a mess then he should never come to my shoe box hovel. This place is a mixture of black and white and nothing like the familiar brown that I’ve come to know. There are marble counter tops and glass windows that look out onto the night sky and the street below. His apartment has an open floor plan and I can see everything from the computer area to the kitchen to the living room. 

I think it’s safe to say that I’m overwhelmed.

“It’s fine.” I manage as I lean down to scratch a fat white cat behind the ear. It’s wearing a pink bow so I assume that it’s a girl. She looks gentle enough and her eyes remind me of Makoto’s.

“Excuse the intrusion.” I tell her and she trills in response. I know that the cat can’t understand me but the conversation lowers the tension in my abdomen and gives me something to do. 

“She likes you.” Makoto interjects and I’m already familiar with the nervous chuckle that follows. How many times has he done that in the past couple of hours?

I reply with “animals usually do” and my back straightens once more. The cat rubs around my shin for a moment before I step into the room properly.

“You’re a very likeable person.” Makoto says and I snort automatically. Surely he’s joking, but I guess that I’ve never treated him like I have strangers or Nagisa. I did shut Makoto out for a couple of weeks but that doesn’t count. I don’t want it to. 

“Well, I like you.” Makoto smiles as he busies himself with a large coffee machine. It’s black, sleek and industrial looking enough to fit right in at a coffee shop. It’s so much more than the tin of instant that I could offer. Not that I would. I don’t like change and I dislike guests. Hell, I didn’t even replace the jug when my grangran died and I was 18 then. 

Which makes me wonder if we are too different, Makoto and I.

Does he really want what I have to offer? I know that he said that he knew me, that we’d met when we were teens and that I showed him the way to his writing, but does he  _really_ know me? I can afford a place like this, sure, but I don’t want to. I probably earn double what he is making but our salaries aren’t the problem it’s what we choose to do with the money. I don’t care about materials aside from things that I need to survive and painting supplies but Makoto looks more than comfortable.

Those are just surface differences. I already know that I’m grumpy and anti-social and he is vibrant and caring. How can that combination work together? 

I’m starting to think that it’s not possible. It hurts my stomach and any calm that I managed to gather slips away. My chest tightens but it’s not the burning feeling that I’ve learnt to associate with jealously, it’s something new. Whatever it is hurts and I’m leaning towards the idea that it’s linked to my feelings for Makoto. I’ve only known him in person for a handful of hours but my heart doesn’t seem to care about that. My mind tells me that this situation is outrageous and maybe it is. 

Though, I don’t paint with my mind…

It didn’t feel this way when Makoto confessed; when we kissed. I feel uneasy.

“Haru.” Makoto pulls me from my own head and I realise that I’ve been staring. He’s watching me back and a sigh of relief falls from my parted lips. His eyes are steady and commanding but they don’t lose their gentleness. There is safety within this look and I’m unable to turn away. 

When it’s like this it feels simple.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says and my eyes narrow. I don’t reply because I know that it’s true and I don’t notice that he read me like an open book again. It’s clear that my worries about him not understanding me are completely unfounded and disproved but the niggle is still there in the back of my mind. 

What would a normal man want with someone abnormal like me?

“Stop.” Makoto says again and I hadn’t noticed that my thoughts had run away with me. I’m not very good at being outside of my own head. 

“Okay.” Falls from my lips and I follow his beckoning hand. 

“I’ll show you this.” Makoto smiles nervously. The coffee machine is making a chugging noise and he is looking towards the dark side of the living area. It’s the only light that was left off and I follow Makoto over to the switch. 

He looks jittery and I briefly wonder why.

“Now this is either going to calm you down or make you think I’m a creep.” Makoto warns, followed by a nervous chuckle. His fingers scratch the back of his neck in a habitual move and I give him a dubious look. He’s being ridiculous. Anything that makes Makoto seem more human would be helpful because right now he is looking more than normal; he’s perfect and it’s annoying. 

“Okay.” He breathes out shakily as he flicks the light on. The golden globes that hang from the ceiling are nothing like the blinding light that I’ve got in my apartment but they only hold my attention for a second.

My breath leaves as I realise what is in front of me and I take an involuntary step forward. “Makoto…” I let out and he makes a worried noise. 

“Please don’t think I’m weird, Haru!” He exclaims and I’m waving him off with my hand.

“These are all of my paintings.” I’m in shock and very much awed by the situation. 

“They are…I started off with one and it helped me. I guess I just liked having them so I bought more.” 

I nod absently at his explanation but I’m looking at the little lights above each hanging artwork. I want to look at each one up close and remember what I saw when I was creating them. I had no idea that I held any memories of these pieces close but my heart is beating and my fingers are twitching and I’m almost ready to run all the way home and paint something new. 

“I didn’t buy all of them.” Makoto almost huffs and he sounds a little defensive. 

So I throw him a bone. “It’s not weird.”

“Yes it is.” He sighs, fiddling with his own fingers. It’s a noise that makes me think that this has been on his mind for a while.

“I fell in love with a boy who was painting in the park at 15 and I watched his progress to the point that I based my career around him and bought all of his paintings that I could get my hands on. I even tricked him into being in an exhibit that I created because of his memory and brought him home for coffee. I-I didn’t mean to fall in love, Haru…” Makoto takes in a large gulp of air and I notice that his eyes are wavering. They should never be like that. 

“You can leave if you want.” He sounds forlorn and although his words are completely true I know that his actions didn’t hold any malice. Nagisa would call it romantic. I can’t say the same thing, but…

“It’s just weird enough.” I murmur, fixing him with a solid look before I step closer to the painting in the centre of it all. It’s a piece that I thought I was happy to say goodbye to, but now that I can see it in front of me I feel incredibly grateful. 

“This is Loveless.” I say as I trace the lines of the painting without touching the canvas. It’s the work that brought me to Makoto; that ensured I’d find my spark again. It’s completely lifeless just like I remember but there is something else behind it now; a backstory.

“Yeah.” Makoto says and I startle. I didn’t realise that he had moved to stand beside me. The back of his hand grazes mine and without really thinking I slot our palms together before lacing my fingers between his. 

Makoto lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes back. 

We don’t talk for a long moment as we stare at the painting that brought us here. 

“Makoto.” I finally say, not looking away from the dark navy and grey tones to his open expression and warm eyes. 

“Hm?” He replies and I’m glad that he sounds more relaxed. 

“Thanks.” 

Makoto sounds confused. “What for?” 

“For watching me. For all of your help.” 

“You don’t have to-” He trails off before trying again. “I’m sorry for-” 

“Don’t be. It’s fine.” I cut him off.

Makoto merely nods in reply. His green eyes fill with something foreign and he tugs me closer to his side in a fit of emotional spontaneity.

I don’t usually like touching, but I can’t say that this doesn’t sit right with me because I’m actually happy. 

“You thirsty?” Makoto asks against my temple. His arm wraps around my shoulders tight for a second and he makes a warm noise deep in his chest. 

“Yeah.” 


	3. Chapter 3

So the night rounded off at Makoto’s and I actually felt regretful. I was able to see my paintings again; the product of my hard work. The coffee was the best that I ever tasted and despite the apartment being too expensive and large I didn’t feel out of place by the end. I didn’t laugh or smile but when do I ever? Makoto did enough for the both of us and by the time he walked me down to the street and pecked me shyly on the lips I was assimilated to his being. I didn’t even notice the town car pull up to take me home until he nudged me with his shoulder and set loose that stupid big smile. 

“I’ll call you.” He said and it was a surreal moment. 

“Okay.” I replied. I didn’t like answering my phone but for the next couple of weeks I kept it on me at all times. I’d never experienced the phenomena before but I had seen it on television. I couldn’t think about my next piece or the upcoming draft meeting. I couldn’t play solitaire; which is my favourite game. I was too high strung to drink coffee that suddenly tasted too bland  _and_  I was unable to leave my phone alone. I checked it every couple of minutes but Makoto didn’t text often. He did call and the moment he breathed into the receiver I realised what was wrong. The truth was as clear as day. I was becoming a teenage girl. For the duration of the conversation I was able to forget about my problem but the moment the receiver clicked and I knew that Makoto was gone I began to panic. Not in the way that normal people panic. I don’t know how to do that. 

No, I sat on my couch and stared at the bare coffee table. Anyone that knows me can say that I’m not good at keeping my coffee table clutter free but my whole apartment was spotless by that point. I couldn’t paint so I’d found a new way to get out my frustrations; that and allowing Nagisa to infiltrate the employee/friendship barrier. 

My manager came over twice this week and we ate Italian and watched ridiculous romance movies that I’d never thought of as interesting before. You can imagine what a horrible surprise it was to learn that I was starting to relate to the mushy scenes and amped up plot lines. I drew parallels between me and Makoto’s meeting with each dvd Nagisa chose but I was still okay, I had it under wraps. 

Then my manager said it, he opened his big fat mouth and ruined everything.

“ _Oh_  Haru-chan, you’ve got it bad.” He smiled deviously and somehow managed to look sympathetic at the same time. I’m not quite sure how he does that. Anyway, he winked at me and went back to looking at the television. 

“How many times have you seen him? Are you going to again?” Nagisa asked still looking enthralled with the screen in front of him. He chewed his snacks in between and looked impassive. If the loaded question didn’t tip me off then his casual demeanour did. My manager always acts impartial when he’s searching for information; trying to play things cool.

Still, I responded. “Four times.” And because Nagisa was giving me those questioning eyes I continued. “I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

“Is it a date?” Now he sounded a little more excited. The dick bag.

I frowned. “I think so. I guess.”

“What do you mean you ‘think so’? Don’t you like Makoto? I know for a fact that he likes you.”

“I don’t know what I think.” I told him, which was a lie. I also ignored the fact that Nagisa was cavorting with the man I’m probably in love with before I even met him. It came up sometimes but it was easier to ignore. 

“You are SO in love.” He grinned at me and by that point the ruse was over. He wasn’t trying to pay attention to the TV at all anymore. 

I shrugged. I knew what I felt when I was with Makoto and the theory behind love but I had nothing to base it on. 

“No. Don’t do that. It’s so obvious, Haru.” Nagisa sighed deeply and braced his hands on his knees. Then an, ‘Ah hah!’ slipped from his lips that was punctuated by a finger in the air. “Let’s do an experiment.”

Oh no. I’ve never liked Nagisa’s ‘experiments’. In the past a law was broken, I was broken or something that I owned was destroyed. 

I didn’t want myself or Makoto to fall prey to his unintentional but well-meaning hurricane.

“No.” I told him resolutely but Nagisa wasn’t listening to me. I wasn’t listening to him either because he was prattling on about this and that. The only words I managed to get were ‘hand’ and ‘holding.’

So I fixed the problem. “We held hands.” 

But it only made him smile wider. “Good! That will help the experiment.” 

Fuck. That always happened when I didn’t listen. 

“No.”

“Come on, Haru-chan! Just listen for a second! Please?” 

My eyes were almost slits and Nagisa looked particularly pathetic. I knew it was an act but I caved anyway. 

“ _Fine_.” I bit out and the saddened expression fell from his face immediately and he bobbed in his chair. 

“Alright! Well it’s simple.” He said, leaning closer. He was always big on the dramatics. “Hold my hand.” 

I balked, flinching as well. “What?” I asked and I knew that I sounded edgy. 

Nagisa huffed out a sigh and gave me a look that told me I was being a child. But I wasn’t, it was him. “Just trust me.” He finished. 

That was almost funny, though I guess I did listen to him. Nagisa beamed and turned back to face the television. 

“So you two are going to watch a dvd at his house.” He said and a censor went off in my brain.

“I didn’t tell you that.” I fired back cagily. 

“No you didn’t, but Makoto did.” Nagisa replied, refusing to look my way. I wanted to know more but the question was gone from my mind when a smaller palm was thrust against my own. It was slightly clammy and nothing like Makoto’s big warm hands. 

The room fell silent and I felt like I was going to be sick. It was weird and I tried to rip away. 

“Ah Ahh.” Nagisa scolded as his fingers threaded through mine and I gave an involuntary shiver. 

I only lasted another moment or so before I grit out. “This is weird.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” My manager smiled and his grip loosened. I used the opportunity to pull away and wiped my hand on my jeans. Disgusting. 

“Does it feel that way with Makoto?” Nagisa asked me. His gaze was serious, which was a rarity, and he looked genuinely concerned. 

So I sighed in defeat. “No…It feels…” I trailed off.

“Right?” He asked. “It feels right?”

Turning my head to the side I could feel the blush rising to the back of my neck. Stupid Makoto and stupid manager. 

“Yeah.” I replied before clearing my throat and standing up. I walked to the kitchen and Nagisa rewound the movie so that he could watch it properly but he looked pleased.

Somehow he always manages to prove his point. 

Which brings me here: to Makoto’s apartment, to his couch. A similar movie is playing and we are sitting close to each other but not quite touching. My brain hasn’t been this quiet all week but my fingers are itching. 

“Haru.” Makoto interjects, speaking softly because of the television. He doesn’t need to. His flat screen is massive and I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

“Mm.” I respond as I rub my damp palm against the rough material of my slacks. 

There’s a pause that forces me to look at him. Makoto’s cheeks are dusted pink and he looks embarrassed. It’s another picture that I’ll need to add to my secret sketchbook. 

I don’t get to watch him for long, though, because he’s stammering and I’m forced to turn my head to the side. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Makoto asks. It’s annoying and his tone is soft, inviting and I would like nothing more than to reach out and slot our palms together. Ever since Nagisa’s experiment I’ve been thinking about Makoto’s hands; I’ve been drawing them almost compulsively. Still, I don’t make a move.

“Idiot.” I barely mutter. “Do what you want.” 

I know that I’m red and I can only guess that Makoto is, too. But as his hand slides into mine and my heart picks up a beat I don’t mind the embarrassment so much. Sometimes I wish that Makoto wasn’t so polite but then he wouldn’t be Makoto. But really, if he keeps asking to kiss me or hold my hand I might have to start saying no because it’s been three weeks already. I might not be up on social convention but I don’t think that treating me like a china doll or as if I’m wearing a chastity ring is of the norm. 

One day I might be confident enough to say so but for now I watch the movie with my friend that I’m in love with and loves me back. 

It’s a good thing that I’m enjoying this moment because I have no idea what surprises lay ahead. I don’t know what the world is going to expect from me or what I even expect from myself. 

I might have my spark back but I have a lot to learn about love and life. It doesn’t help that I’m starting from the beginning. Makoto is the first person that I’ve ever held hands with aside from my idiot manager and I have no idea how far this relationship is going to go. I don’t even know that I’m in a relationship or that Makoto has thought about it and that there is a very good reason for his over sensitivity. 

Yeah, it’s a good thing that there are moments like these.


	4. Sleepy Cuddles Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited by anilinsan.tumblr.com. Submitted to the makoharu fest for the challenge 'cuddles'. :)

I’ve been hugged before, I’m certain of that. But I think that touches from my grangran and idiot Nagisa might be different to this. No, I’m sure that it’s different. 

The feeling of warm arms around me, Makoto’s breath on my neck, his shampoo and cologne that are unescapable to my senses, it’s all so real. Yet it’s almost like a fairy tale as well. I used to think that if I couldn’t paint it then it couldn’t possibly be real. It was how I dealt with feelings that I didn’t understand and there were  _many_  that I couldn’t wrap my head around. 

But I sort of get it now. This feeling of having someone’s arms close to me, their body against mine, it’s intangible. I could paint the image of Makoto and I embracing, though it wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t be able to capture the inner feelings of the moment; the small things that create the human experience. Sure the image would be beautiful, with sloping lines and realistic colours, but it wouldn’t be what I’m going through right now. 

The painting also wouldn’t show that I’m trying very carefully not to move. No one would know that this is the first time that we’ve done this; that Makoto fell asleep during a painting documentary and has decided that I’m a suitable teddy bear. 

His breath is even and every so often a sigh leaves his parted lips. They look full and are very close to my face when I turn my head. I do it just to see and my face flushes red. Still, I don’t look away. Makoto isn’t awake to see me watching and it is a good opportunity to study. I’ve painted him numerous times over the months that we have been together, though none have looked like this. Makoto is completely bare. His face is vulnerable and I like the small smile that remains on his lips. The full lashes aren’t noticeable when he is awake because Makoto has this strange ability to make his eyes seem extremely large and he often looks surprised. His lids are hooded as well and it’s something that my memory likes to play over now and then. I can’t think about it too much because it’s dangerous. I can only admit to myself that it was the image of Makoto’s sloping eyes that gave me my first erection. Obviously it wasn’t my  _first_  first, but it was in the sense that I’d never fantasised before. I wasn’t even trying to do it on purpose; it just happened. After that I started to wonder about his lips and the feel of his bronze skin. 

Makoto doesn’t know that he’s turned me into a regular pervert and I’d really like it if he doesn’t find out. If he keeps pressing against me like this, though, he might discover it all on his own. 

I try very slowly to move from the hold; to press my hips away from his resting hand. I fail dismally and Makoto shifts in his sleep. But he isn’t sleeping anymore. No, he is groaning against my ear and placing a kiss on skin that is unknowingly very sensitive. It only heightens my embarrassment and my problem. 

However, I’m with Makoto. That knowledge alone should have been enough to stop my worrying. 

“Mmm.” He intones softly and it rumbles through my body. His voice is thick with sleep; like honey. Makoto’s hand presses down fully against my clothed erection and the rumble in his chest emits once more. 

“Do I feel nice?” He asks easily, with a hint of teasing, and he pulls me closer. I’m hauled onto his lap without any trouble and I feel that I have the same effect on him. It’s nice and distracting simultaneously. I actually have to stop myself from pressing back upon him. 

Makoto doesn’t seem to have any intentions and merely kisses my neck. His body scooches down and his arms stay firmly around my waist.

He doesn’t wait for me to reply as he kisses the junction of my neck and shoulders chastely. 

“You feel nice, Haru.” He murmurs softly. 

Without thinking, my hand moves to clasp his over my abdomen and I give it a squeeze. 

“You too.” I reply tonelessly. 

I don’t understand what this moment means in normal terms. I know that I’m aroused and that he is, too. I think that Makoto is trying to teach me something, or maybe he just loves me more than our body’s reactions. 

Whatever it is, I can’t even begin to unravel it. I’ll admit that I know nothing about human beings or relationships. I also hope that Makoto does this more often, but when he’s awake. 

This is a first for us and I guess it means I’m that much closer to figuring out what ‘us’ really means. 

For now I’ll let Makoto hug me. He’s the only person that is allowed.

**Author's Note:**

> Some entries will be part of the makoharu festival over at tumblr. Check it out and vote by liking here:  
> [chapter one](http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/73218700214/challenge-blue-green-user-merinxd), [chapter two](http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/73316133951/challenge-watching-user-merinxd), [chapter three](http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/73416939908/challenge-holding-hands-user-merinxd).


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